


Cure

by Walker_August



Category: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Injury Recovery, Light Angst, Reader-Insert, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 00:37:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walker_August/pseuds/Walker_August
Summary: August Walker x reader based on the prompt:“August came back all beaten up and bruised after a mission and he’s mentally numb too. You take care of him anyway, by running him a nice hot Epsom salts bath and taking him to bed, where you give him a restorative massage and tuck him in, letting him be the little spoon this time. In the morning he’s still a bit sore, but he feels warm inside and just wants to shower you with affection and show you how grateful he is for having you. NSFW elements welcome :)“





	Cure

Waiting for August to get home is always the hardest part. He could only ever give you a vague time frame for his missions, which meant you had to be patient. Before you knew him, before all of this, being patient wasn’t hard for you at all but now you struggled. You just wanted August back. You get on with your life of course, you can’t and won’t sit waiting for him to come through the door every time, and he doesn’t expect you to.

Returning home from your Sunday afternoon lunch date with friends, you know something is wrong immediately when you find the front door ajar. You had locked it on your way out, and you know he would never leave it so obviously open. Quietly entering the apartment you take in the mess in the entryway, the small table where your keys usually sit is toppled over and it’s items scattered on the floor. You drop your bag but keep your keys in your hand, feeling glad for the self defence classes you’d been taking as you creep through your own apartment. A smear of blood on the wall leading in to the living room throws you off for a moment.

You almost stop breathing when you see him, slumped on the sofa, bruised and bleeding. He’s conscious but his eyes look almost empty, no expression on his face. “August” you gasp, running to him, hands on his face as he looks up at you. You sit next to him and hold him to you for a moment, his quiet, steady breathing reassuring you that he looks worse than he is. Still you feel tears slide down your face and the panic taking over. “What happened, August?” you ask. He doesn’t respond, just shaking his head and closing his eyes. Something isn’t right, he’s trying to hide the pain. He seems so vulnerable, more than you’ve ever seen him before. “It’s ok, it’s ok. Don’t worry” you say, stroking his hand which holds on to yours, he squeezes it lightly.

He stays silent, battling something in his head, while you examine him. He lets you remove his shirt without protest and you’re glad to find most of the blood on it seems to be someone else’s. There’s a long cut on his upper back, but it isn’t deep, so you clean it and bandage it up. There’s a fair amount of bruising on his torso, and the smaller cuts and bruises on his face but once you clean them up he already looks a lot better. Still terrible, but better. You bring him water and make sure he drinks it, offering food which he refuses. And then you sit next to him and take him in your arms again. “August, please talk to me. What can I do?” the concern in your voice obvious.

“I’m sorry” he chokes out after a while, voice quiet and hoarse “I’m just so tired. And everything…hurts” he admits, looking away. And he does look exhausted, so weary and sad—it breaks your heart. But you can help with that, you think, getting up and trying to pull him off the couch too. He does as you want and follows you on fairly stable legs. You lead him to the bathroom and he watches quietly, propped against the wall, as you run the bath to mild temperature and put in some of the lavender bath oil. These are the things you always go to when your body aches and your mind is bleak. He lets you undress him and you help him get in to the bath, leaving him to soak for a moment peacefully while you find your biggest, fluffiest towel for him. When you come back his eyes are closed and he’s breathing deeply, he’s awake but taking in the calming scent and warmth of the bath.

Sitting on the edge of the tub you make sure he keeps the bandaged wound out of the water while you stroke his hair and his face, both of you staying quiet. You want kiss him but you’re scared to, he seems so distant, so unresponsive and you’re unsure of what his reaction might be. He doesn’t notice your apprehension, his mind still lost in the mission. He’s not even sure how he made it home, how he made it out alive, all he’s sure of is that he knew he had to come back to you and everything would be better. He lets you gently massage his shoulders as he stretches out in the tub, a sigh escaping his lips as he lets in the warmth and tranquillity, starting to feel almost human again.

When he gets out you wrap him up in the towel and leave him to dry himself. You’re glad to see there’s colour in his face again now, but he still looks so tired, so resigned. You leave him for a few minutes to make you both a herbal tea to help him sleep, but when you get back he’s already made his way to your bedroom and is curled up on the bed with his eyes closed. Abandoning the drinks on your night-stand you turn off the lights and climb in to bed next to him, curling around him. You feel the overwhelming urge to shield him from the world, to cover him with your love. You bring your arm around his chest to hold him close and he hold your hand in his, lying there silent and still as he drifts off.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this” August whispers, a while later, his voice uneven. You’re surprised to hear him, thinking he had fallen asleep already. “I don’t want to keep doing this. Not for these people”. You don’t talk about his work, not often. You know enough to know that you’re better off not hearing about it and he agrees. It’s difficult then to know how to react, but you say what’s been in your heart for all the time you’ve known him.

“Then don’t. August, tell them no. We can run away together and forget it all.” You kiss his shoulder lightly then continue, and he doesn’t miss the emotion in your voice, which makes tears sting in his eyes “We don’t need anyone else. I know I don’t”

He sighs and responds dejectedly “The world will still need fixing, no matter where we go. All the shit will go on and on and I can’t ignore it…And I can’t risk ignoring it either, letting it get to you, the darkness, the hurt. I need to keep going” his voice is low but you hear the determination and a hint of something that worries you. He needs to rest, his mind isn’t in the right place for this sort of talk.

“Sleep, August. Please. You need it” you press you lips against his back, comforting him “Ignore the world, just for now ok? I’m here and so are you and that’s all that matters right now” You hold him close, you’ve never felt such a need to protect him as you do in this moment. You nuzzle against him and run a hand gently through his hair as he holds the other against his chest like he wants you even closer around him. He falls asleep quickly then, his breath steady, grip on your hand loosening as he falls in to a deep sleep. You don’t sleep for more than a few hours – instead you listen to him breathing and try to shake the worry. You just want to wrap yourself around him and look after him until he heals.

You wake early the next morning, feeling the lack of sleep as your body protests rising from bed. August is still sleeping soundly and you’re still pressed close together, making you want to get out of bed even less. But you do, leaving him to rest. Before you leave for work you put a note on the fridge door for him, knowing when he wakes he’ll be starving. It reads: ‘At work. Call me if you need anything. I love you’. It reminds you of the times when things were new, when he had just started spending time at your apartment and he would leave you little messages before he left on missions. A happy memory that makes you smile.

You don’t hear from him at work, not once, and you know it’s a good sign but it still causes you concern. You don’t know why, but you can’t shake the feeling that he’s not going to be there when you get home. It’s ridiculous to even think that, you tell yourself going back to your work and drowning out your overthinking mind. The day is painfully slow but when the clock finally reaches 5pm and you get in your car to leave that nervousness is in the back of your head again. It makes you feel guilty, as you fidget and put off getting out of your car when you get home.

When you do head inside, the first thing you notice is that the mess of the hallway is cleaned up. The smeared blood stain on the wall is practically gone. The apartment isn’t cold, like it felt last night. You drop your keys and bag, and hang up your coat before stepping in to the living room – the sight so different than last night. A bright bunch of flowers in a vase on the coffee table is a new addition to the room, but more importantly August is there sitting on the sofa with a new warmth in his eyes when he looks up at you. His scratched up face still looks sore, and when you sit next to him and he immediately pulls you in to his arms and holds you tight you can tell he’s still suffering. But despite it all you can feel the change in his frame of mind as he kisses your forehead. “Hi” you smile up at him “how do you feel?” you ask, moving to cup his cheek in your hand when he loosens his grip of you.

“I’m getting there.” he responds, absent-mindedly stroking your hair. “I’d be so much worse off if it wasn’t for you, for you looking after me like that. Thank you” his voice strains and you can see tears forming in his eyes before he blinks them away “I love you so much. And I’m sorry to have come to you like that. I’m so sorry.” he looks away, guilt in his expression but you pull him back to look at you.

“You don’t have to be sorry, August, I know you’d do the same for me. I’m glad you came to me because I can’t bare to think of the alternative, of you out there alone in that state.” You pull him close now, arms around his neck and he responds by tightening his grip on you again “Always come to me, please. Please. I love you more than anything” you kiss his cheek and then he turns his head and your lips meet. You feel yourself finally relax and melt in to the kiss that goes on and on, neither of you wanting to break apart. 

You eventually do, reluctantly. Relief floods your body at his improvement, at finally being able to touch him and kiss him and not being scared he’ll flinch. He has a way to go, you know, but you’re so glad to have him back. Later you eat together, and you notice he picks at his food but he promises you he’ll have his appetite back soon, holding your hand and stroking it assuredly. Afterwards he lets you examine the wound on his back, cleaning it and redressing it, telling you it doesn’t hurt and not to worry.

When you’re washing the dishes later in the evening he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, kissing lovingly at your neck. “Come to bed” He whispers in your ear and it’s a request, not a command. You can’t resist, drying your hands and letting him lead the way, wanting him so much suddenly. He kisses you carefully, undressing you slowly, hands moving down your body, it’s everything you need. When he lays you down on the bed, lying on his side next to you, he runs his fingers lightly and so slowly from your neck down to your stomach before leaning down and kissing around your breasts. You run your hands along his shoulders and down his back, careful to avoid his injury, gasping as he flicks his tongue against your nipples before sucking them. He moves back up to kiss you as his hand travels further down, rubbing against you feeling your heat and wetness.

You want more and more, grazing against him, feeling him hard against your hand as he groans in to the kiss. You help relieve him of his underwear, freeing him, and he nudges between your legs spreading them. Kissing you still, one hand between your legs, you grasp at his hips to pull him towards you. Both of you suddenly so desperate for it. He presses his lips against your ear, nibbling on your earlobe, grunting when he pushes in to you. 

He makes love to you, movements slow and unhurried as he continues to kiss you affectionately. He wants to make you know how much he appreciates you and what you did for him, how much he adores and cares for you. “I love you” he murmurs as he looks in to your eyes, keeping the same deliberately steady, gentle pace. You feel almost like you’re rediscovering each other, as hands and lips wander and you feel all of him in you, completely lost in his touch.

Never once does it become urgent, even when you come almost together, and it’s nothing short of breathtaking when you do. Afterwards you lie together in relative silence for a while, still holding on to each other. “Thank you” he says, after several minutes, gripping you close to him again and kissing you softly, “Thank you for being my cure”.


End file.
